


The Bone Crush

by writtenrebellion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, High School, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-04-22 12:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14308533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenrebellion/pseuds/writtenrebellion
Summary: Hogwarts!AU for the #OLPromptExchange on Tumblr."...above all, he could have wasted his afternoon staring at a stone wall, instead of gaping blankly at Claire Beauchamp as she strolled into the room.Yes, as far as days went, this certainly wasn’t bad."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #35: Harry Potter AU: Jamie and Claire as students in Hogwarts. Jamie in Gryffindor, Claire in Ravenclaw? Or both in Gryffindor. Maybe post-canon?

As far as days went, it could’ve been worse.

He could have been expelled, instead of just sitting in an empty detention hall. He could have lost 50 house points, instead of just 15. He could’ve gotten far worse than a broken arm, and he was lucky enough to have it in whatever muggle strap Hugh was able to produce at a moment’s notice.

And above all, he could have wasted his afternoon staring at a stone wall, instead of gaping blankly at Claire Beauchamp as she strolled into the room.

Yes, as far as days went, this certainly wasn’t bad.

“Um, can I help you?” she said quickly, whisky daring blue to look away.

“W-what are  _you_  doing here?”

Her nose wrinkled at that. She brushed her dark curls off her shoulder and crossed her arms.

“This is detention, isn’t it? I thought that was obvious.”

“Aye, but—” She raised an eyebrow. “But ye’re a prefect, are ye no?”

Her lips curved into something just less than a smile.

“My, how  _very_  observant of you.”

He sat up in his chair, catching her tone.

“So the rumour about ye stealin’ Madame Pomfrey’s bone-growing juice is true then?”

Whatever smile  _had_  been forming fell open and her cheeks pinked.

“It most definitely is  _not_!”

Jamie tried his best to stifle the laugh trembling deep in his belly lest her cheeks get any redder, as tempting as the sight may be.

“Aha, I didna mean to offend ye, Beauchamp,” he said, shoulders still shaking.

“Hmph,  _Fraser_.” She narrowed her eyes at him but pulled the seat from a desk and sat facing him regardless.

“What’s that on your arm?”

“Oh this?” He’d almost completely forgotten the dull throbbing in his broken bone when she walked in. At its mention, the ache rushed back in like blood to an open wound.

He winced as he turned in the desk to face her. “Some muggle cloth my mate Hugh had on him.”

“It’s a sling,” she said, brows drawing together.

“Aye, that’s what he called it. Keeps my arm all still until I can get the bone healed.”

“But—” Her eyes darted from his arm to his face and back. “But then, why are you here? You should’ve gone straight to Madame Pomfrey.”

“Well what good would  _she_  do me, lass, since ye stole her bone potion?”

She gave him a dead glare and he laughed until his arm ached again.

“Ach, it wasna really my choice, aye? The prefect who sent me didna leave much room for negotiation, especially considering  _he’s_  the one who did it to me.”

Claire sat bolt upright.

“Who the  _hell_  was it?”

Jamie ran his free hand through his hair.

“Ye ken Jack Randall, the Slyther—? Ah, I see ye do.”

Her face had contorted in the way so uniquely attributed to Randall by everyone he knew in the Gryffindor common room. Evidently the Ravenclaws felt the same.

“We’ve met, yes.”

“Aye well, he was picking on Hugh – Hufflepuff lad, around this tall, ye know him? – and one thing led to another…”

“And what? You two beat the shit out of each other?”

“Mmrmph, more like I brought my fists to a wand fight.” He squirmed as best he could in his chair, trying not to jostle his arm. “Damn prick doesna fight verra fair.”

“And he sent you straight here? After  _he_  started the fight and did that to you?”

“Madame Hooch was the one who caught us brawling. Randall wasted no time giving her his side and offering to escort me right to detention.”

She frowned, and Jamie felt a small surge of pride at her genuine concern for his well-being. The surge stopped roughly around his arm though, as it throbbed with pain yet again.

He repositioned the sling on the desk between them, trying to get more comfortable in his seat.

“What about  _you_ , lass? What trouble has the darling Ravenclaw prefect gotten herself into?”

She looked up from his arm to meet his eyes again but said nothing.

“Och c’mon Beauchamp, fair’s fair, aye? It’s no’ like we’ve got something better to do.”

She gave it a moment’s thought before her shoulders slumped.

“Oh alright,” she said, resting her elbows on the edge of Jamie’s desk. “I got caught trying to steal— _no_ , not that. I was trying to take a mandrake root back to my dorm.”

“A mandrake—? Those things from second year that look like tree bairns and screech like the devil? Why on earth would ye want one of those in yer room?”

“If you actually paid attention in Herbology, you’d know they’re a base ingredient in most antidotes and potions.” She huffed, her cheeks puffing out indignantly.

His heart thudded against his chest.

_Christ_ , _had she always been this cute?_

“They’ve got all sorts of medicinal qualities…” He took another look at her, enjoying the way her face practically glowed, even as she listed off something as mundane as the uses of a mandrake root.

“…they use them for just about  _everything_  at St. Mungo’s. I only wanted to do a few tests of my own, but the damn stupid little bugger started fussing in its pot and it slipped right out of my hands.”

“Hang on—” Jamie snapped back into the present. “—aren’t mandrake shrieks fatal? That’s wicked careless of ye, lass.”

She smiled.

_God. Damn._

“So you  _were_  paying attention in class, I’m impressed.”

“I’d do well to remember things that might kill me, especially at  _this_  school,” he added wryly.

“Well, I’m not stupid, I brought earplugs just in case,” she said. “Plus, the baby ones can’t kill you.” Her cheek fell into her palm, and she rolled her eyes. “All they can do is cry loud enough to call Professor Sprout back from her office apparently.”

“Not bad at all, Beauchamp.” He chuckled, but had to stop short as a dart of pain came rushing down from his shoulder. His eyes squeezed shut.

“Is your arm bothering you?”

“Nay Sassenach,” he said through gritted teeth. “I just like makin’ the odd wee grunt of pain every once and awhile, aye?”

“Well, if you weren’t such an arse about it, I could probably help you.”

He regarded her with one eye.

“Help me? So ye’ve got that potion after all?”

“Or I could just let you suffer in pain—”

“What help is it then, Beauchamp?” he said, looking her dead on.

She sat straight, edging the end of her chair as she leaned in, visibly bristling with the same excitement he’d seen on countless first-years as they entered the great hall for the first time.

“There’s a spell used by combat healers in the last Wizarding War. It helps alleviate pain temporarily so that aurors and other soldiers can last longer before getting properly treated.”

“I dinna remember hearing this in class. What spell is it?”

“It’s not really—well, it’s a nonverbal spell, actually.”

“Nonverbal magic?” He raised his brows at her. “Where did ye learn that?”

“From a book,” she answered, suddenly not able to meet his eye as she began to mumble hastily. “A book… from the restricted section of the library.”

“ _Christ Jesus_ ,” he laughed, “and what else do ye do in yer spare time, Beauchamp, plan to rob Gringotts?”

“Fine. Suffer then.”

Her pout was back, full reddened cheeks and all. Jamie stopped himself, opting for as warm a smile he could muster in spite of the pain.

“Ach, I’m sorry, lass. I just—It feels like I’m only just meeting ye for the first time is all. Please, by all means, I trust ye.”

They locked eyes then, hers looking almost incredulous at the notion. Surely this wasn’t the first time someone’s said that to her. And yet…

“You’re… you’re sure?” Her hand slowly reached down to her boot, drawing out her wand.

“Aye.” Jamie said, feeling quite like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

Her face flushed again, but it seemed decidedly different from the last time. He tried not to read into it, even as she leaned over the desk towards him, close enough for him to feel her breath against his throat.

Her left hand gently pressed into his shoulder as she aimed her wand with her right. He hissed at the contact and she peered up at him.

A nod.  _Trust me_.

He nodded back.

And with a practiced twist and flick of her wrist, Jamie felt a warm glow coil around the break in his arm and then dissolve, taking the pain with it.

“ _Gast’ air fad_!”

“It worked?”

“Aye, I dinna feel a thing.” He wiggled his fingers, opened and closed his fist. “Thank ye lass, truly.”

She looked up, absolutely beaming and, though the pain  _was_  in fact gone, Jamie felt his heart thundering like it had when the bone had just broken.

Something arced between their eyes. Her smile was slowly fading as she started to notice too.

“T-thank you, Cla—”

“Well, if it isn’t Claire.”

Her expression turned venomous in a millisecond as she swiveled her head toward the doorway, rising out of her seat to return her wand to her boot.

“Hello Jack.”

“And what might you be doing here in detention?”

What was a wide smile not three seconds ago was now a tight thin line across her mouth as Claire looked from Randall to Jamie and back again.

Then she smirked.

“Leaving, actually. Jamie and I were just about to go.” She motioned for him to stand and he did.

“Go?” Randall said as Claire strode to the door.

“Yes,  _go_ ,” she replied, clapping a hand onto his shoulder. “Jamie wasn’t supposed to be here anyway, and I have to take him to Madame Pomfrey’s straight away.”

He sneered, looking from her to Jamie, who simply kept his mouth shut. Claire meanwhile, was not-so-gently pushing against Randall’s shoulder until they were facing each other head on.

“Oh, and Jack?” Jamie could see her nails digging into Randall’s robes even as she smiled at him, dangerously sweet just like the tone of her voice.

“If I ever hear about you picking fights, injuring other students, and sending them to detention without a second thought—” Her pretense dropped, as did her curve of her lips. “—I’m sure Jamie, his friend Hugh and I will have  _plenty_  of interesting things to say to Headmistress McGonagall.”

Randall sniffed, his lips tightening together as Claire’s smirk returned.

“A pleasure as always.” She patted his robes, neatly sweeping him aside as she marched off.

Jamie, unable to hold his own smirk back, nodded in greeting with little more than a curt “Randall” before following Claire out the door.

He waited until they turned into a far enough corridor to break.

“Jesus, lass, that was incredible!” he said, grinning even wider when he saw her cheeks flush again. “Guess I have to thank ye for saving my hide twice today.”

“No, I have to thank  _you_ ,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve been waiting for a good reason to put that git in his place for  _ages_.”

“Well, happy to oblige ye then.”

The two laughed, letting the sound echo through the halls, hoping that it would somehow make its way back to Randall.

“Well,” Claire said finally, “let’s get you to Madame Pomfrey’s, shall we?” She gave his arm a nudge.

“Och, ye dinna have to go out of yer way, lass.” He shrugged. “I ken where it is.”

He was loathe to leave her though, and just maybe – possibly, hopefully – she felt the same.

“Well, yes but…” He tilted his head at her as she paused, weighing some invisible scale in her mind before heaving a great sigh.

“I suppose I should probably return this,” she mumbled, reaching deep into her robe’s pocket and procuring none other than one large bottle of  _Skele-gro_.

Jamie’s barking laughter most  _assuredly_ made it back to Randall, wherever he was.

“Ye truly are a wonder, Beauchamp.” He ran his hand through his hair.

“Tell no one about this, Fraser, or I’ll just as easily un-fix that arm of yours,” she said, only half-joking.

“Do ye mind letting Madame Pomfrey heal me properly before ye set her off in a rage?”

“Fair’s fair.” She returned his grin, sliding the bottle back into her pocket.

“Verra well, Beauchamp, shall we?”

He offered his good arm to her and she, with a smile impossibly wider than his, looped hers through without a second thought.


	2. Intent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So more than a month later, here’s the next installment of The Bone Crush, which I’ve decided will be a 3 part story ^_^” Originally, I only wanted to have a single sequel chapter, but I had the middle part all typed up and figured it could stand on its own. Plus! That means there will hopefully be less wait time for that last bit. Sooo without further ado~

He didn’t remember doing it consciously, outright, with intent.

In fact, he didn’t realize – or didn’t let himself realize – what  _exactly_  he’d done and why until Filch was pulling him by the ( _verra much healed_ ) arm towards the detention hall.

She, however, seemed to know instinctively.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” Claire said, voice laced with a smile, as he got thrown into the room.

Jamie stood, straightening his robes out as Filch shuffled down the hall with mumbled expletives and opinions on students being where they should be.

“Detention again, Beauchamp? What sort of prefect are ye?”

She eyed him amusedly as he cleared his throat and sat down in front of her, their positions from the other day now switched.

“You knew I had detention, Fraser. You were right next to me when Madame Pomfrey assigned it.”

“Hmm?” He scratched the back of his ear. She was still staring but if he didn’t acknowledge it, maybe he could convince himself it wasn’t true.

Meanwhile, her smile was widening in the corner of his eye. Her voice was daring and – he definitely imagined – a little hopeful.

“Don’t tell me you got detention at the  _exact_  same time just to see me again.”

“Och,  _someone’s_  a bit full of themselves, aye?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, trying to look as unimpressed with her accusation as possible.

“Mm,” she hummed, nodding at him. “So, what did you do then?”

He pushed his shoulders back, sitting up in his seat like that would somehow give him the upper-hand.

“Thought I’d see what all yer fuss was with the restricted section of the library—” He saw her lean towards him, smile never faltering, so he went on hastily. “—Accidentally stepped on Mrs. Norris’ tail and before I knew it, Filch was dragging me down here.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “The restricted section, huh?”

“…aye.”

“Really?”

“ _Aye_.”

“What were you checking out?”

He coughed. “Sorry?”

“What  _book_?”

“Oh, like ye ken  _every single_  book title in the library, lass?”

Her lips pressed together like she was holding back either a laugh or a comeback; both were equally likely from her. He cleared his throat again, feeling as if his robes were suddenly a size too small.

“I  _will_  admit though,” he said, “I’d appreciate some tips on how not to get caught, for next time o’ course.”

Another dare from her eyes, but Jamie wasn’t one to be beat. He stared her down until she broke away with a sigh, leaning back in her chair.

“Oh alright,” she chuckled. “It’s not like we have something better to do.”

It felt like a hollow win, especially as she moved the conversation away from whatever his reasoning was for getting detention and into more neutral territory.

No matter, they were talking and that was enough. He barely registered the passing hour until Filch came back to dismiss them and, by the time they were standing in the corridor, Jamie realized he hadn’t yet said what he’d wanted to.

What he’d ( _allegedly_ ) gotten himself caught just to ask.

“So…”  _Aye, a great start, that, Fraser_. “Um, I was—”

“Gonna own up to getting detention on purpose?” She grinned, elbowing him.

“ _Nay_ ,” he said, crossing his arms and scrunching his nose at her. “I wanted to ask ye—”

“Claire!”

He stiffened as Randall appeared at the end of the hall.

_Goddammit. Again?_

Jamie turned to Claire, hoping for another chance to see her absolutely decimate him, but she was…

She was smiling. She waved as Randall made his way towards them and Jamie’s head spun.

It was Randall, yes. But he was somehow,  _not_. His shoulders were more relaxed, his eyes and voice softer. And on those shoulders, were Ravenclaw robes not Slytherin.

“Did you hear?” he said to Claire. “We’ve switched patrols with the Hufflepuffs today. Our shift this evening, but we’re free all day tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank God,” she replied. “I haven’t had a whole Saturday off in  _forever_.”

“I was just on my way to McGonagall’s now, are you coming?”

Claire cast an eye Jamie’s way and then shook her head.

“I’ll meet you there,” she said, waving him off as he jogged away.

Jamie was staring a hole into his back and only jolted out of it when Claire tapped him on the arm.

“You were saying?”

“W-what was—? Was that no—?”

“Frank, Frank Randall. Jack’s twin brother?” She laughed at whatever face he’d made. “I know, the resemblance is  _unsettling_ , but he’s a lot nicer than his brother.”

“And you two are…?”  _Friends? Dating? About to shatter every single one of his hopes and dreams?_

“Prefects,” she answered, looking increasingly amused with him. “Just prefects.”

“Oh.”

“So, you were going to ask me something?”

_Oh, right._

“Aye—sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It um, it looks like ye’re free then, all day tomorrow?”

He thought he saw her eyes light up, but he ignored it and kept going.

“I was wonderin’ if—if ye’d like to…” The words felt like they were bubbling up from his chest, dissolving before they could reach his tongue. He watched her watch him, gaze impossibly still and serene as if she knew what was coming.

_Christ_ , she knew.

No use in rethinking the move now.

“Would ye like to go to Hogsmeade, tomorrow? …with me?” he added hastily.

Her lips slowly turned upwards.

“Like a date?” she said, so softly he almost missed it.

“Aye,” he coughed, looking down to watch his shoe kick against the floor. “Aye, if ye like.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I mean, it doesna  _have_ to be if you dinna—” He froze, head darting up to look at her.

Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth in a smile. He had to consciously remind himself to keep breathing.

“Y-ye will?”


End file.
